


deliverance

by cosmicpoet



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Akechi Goro Lives, Depression, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, The Velvet Room (Persona Series)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-12
Updated: 2019-09-12
Packaged: 2020-10-17 06:43:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20616692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmicpoet/pseuds/cosmicpoet
Summary: Goro Akechi was the one person that Ren couldn't save, and now he has to live with that every day.Until an opportunity for a second chance presents itself.





	deliverance

The first time Ren tries to go back to his parents’ house, he naively tries to push down the bittersweet feeling of imminent nostalgia - knowing that he’ll get out of the car, say goodbye to his friends, and then he’ll have to readjust to a life without everyone. Of course, he still has Morgana, but he’s acutely aware even as they drive along the toll road that there’s still something _missing, _a space filled only by humid air. Even, simply, the knowledge of what he’s lost is enough to shake him into familiar silence, and he’s somewhat thankful that the others don’t expect much of a voice from him, only quiet determination and resolute action; he doesn’t know what he’d say, anyway. It all just spins around him, the blur of clouds and sky, wind in his hair, and it feels just a little bit sour, twisting the knife in his gut at the realisation that he’s alive, and Goro is not.

Ah, putting it so bluntly feels like a weight both off and on his shoulders. There’s no more pretending, now, as he clutches the black king, his hand gripping it tightly in his pocket. He wonders what he’d define as _victory, _any more. They weren’t so different, after all, and Goro was right - if they’d met earlier, in another life, maybe they wouldn’t have had to destroy themselves for a common goal. But he made a promise back then, and he stuck to it even though it hurt desperately, the thickness of empathy for how Goro had _everything _ripped away from him, even if it was built on a lie that he crafted himself. Still, now, Ren wants to understand him, but it’s not like he can go back to Leblanc and hope to find him at the counter - and what would he ask, anyway?

_Hey, Goro, do you think there was anything I could have done differently? Did you know that you were never needed as a falsity, only as yourself? Did we not show you that enough?_

_Could I have saved you?_

Impossible. Goro is dead, and not only dead, but the self-sacrificial hero of justice died on the thin rope of a promise, and Ren can only hope that he had enough conviction in his words to give him comfort in his last moments. _I promise, _he’d said, and he’d followed through on changing Shido’s heart, but was it enough? Through the thick bulkhead door, he could never tell if he’d been any comfort to someone who didn’t deserve to die like that.

“Hey, Ren-Ren,” Ryuji says, putting an arm around his shoulder, “you good?”

“Yes.”

“We’re almost there,” Makoto tells him, pulling the car off the expressway. Over the next five minutes, the roads become familiar to him, and he feels a lump in his throat at the thought of going back to his parents’ house. Sure, they’re not _bad _parents, but they barely pass as good ones, either - most of the time, he’s simply not acknowledged. He suspects that it was a relief for them to have an excuse to send him away.

“Can we come and visit you?” Haru asks.

“There’s not much around here,” Ren replies.

“There’s you,” Ryuji says.

It does mean something to him to hear that, but it hurts. To think that, after everything they went through, the group still views him as some kind of leader; he wants to help people, to be a pillar of quiet strength that people can rely on, but it’s all just a reminder, now, of the person he didn’t manage to save. Damn Goro Akechi. It’s so hard to hate him when, above everything, Ren simply doesn’t know how to do that. He wants to work through everything he’s feeling, the emotional turmoil and confusion, but he’s never been more sure of the simple fact that he doesn’t hate Goro, and he never has. How could he, after all? He didn’t ask to lose his childhood, to be manipulated, to be used and used and _used _until he could only see death in his future. Suddenly, Ren hates heroes. Who says they get to die and leave everyone else to pick up the pieces of remembrance? He never signed up to piece together every memory of Goro into something coherent that he can hold onto when it all gets too much, but there’s no satisfaction in leaving both kings on the board, and he has to play to the bitter end; there’s a word for that. _Zugzwang - compulsion to move at a disadvantage. _

“We’re here,” Makoto says, and he nods. He’s grateful for all of their help in unloading his suitcase out of the car, but the goodbyes seem rushed - more of a formality than anything else, because he can’t bring himself enough out of his head to understand that this is the end of something. He’s never been very good with endings. They always leave more to hope for without a narrative for any of it to fit.

His parents aren’t home when he gets back. That much was expected, at least. His bedroom is just as he left it, but it doesn’t feel at all familiar like the attic of Leblanc does. Morgana is cautious when he walks around the room, examining the corners of a place that isn’t a home any more. It’s stifling, just sitting on his bed in the dark, running his fingers over the top of the chess piece, turning it over and over in his hands like there’s something yet to be revealed, like enough introspection on a losing game will turn fortune into his favour and bring Goro back.

Pursing his lips and closing his eyes, he shakes out a few dusty tears, thankful for Morgana’s silence on the matter.

He needs to get out of here. It’s a prison, and he can’t breathe.

Walking around his hometown is a lot darker than walking around Yongen-Jaya at night; there aren’t as many streetlights, and none of the shops are open in such a rural area. Instead, he finds himself wandering deep into the depths of trees, down country roads, stumbling on loose rocks until he’s running, fast, like his life depends on it. But where can he go? There are no cafés, no billiards tables, no jazz bars, nowhere to go and think and breathe and remember.

He decides then and there that the only thing worse than being surrounded by reminders of Goro is _not _being surrounded by reminders of Goro.

And so, he gets on a train, with only his wallet, phone, and the clothes on his back, and finds himself back outside Leblanc.

Even though it’s nighttime, Sojiro is still inside, something that Ren wasn’t expecting. He slowly opens the door, hearing the familiar ring of the bell, and stands there, soaked in rain and trying to seem like he knows what to do.

“You’re back,” Sojiro says.

“Yeah. Just for a bit.”

“All right.”

“Why are you still here?”

Sojiro motions to the coffee cup on the counter, making little effort to hide the probation journal that sits half-open next to it. “I had things to do,” he says, “go on up. The attic is just as you left it.”

As much as it feels like home, it doesn’t cheer him up at all. All he can manage to think about is how he _failed; _failed at going back to his hometown, failed at being strong, failed at saving Goro. He just wants to sleep, not because he’s tired, but because thinking and existing right now is too much of a weight on his shoulders, and he wants to be away from everything.

He should have expected to have nightmares.

Over and over, he’s trapped. The crunching metal sound of the bulkhead door closing screeches in his mind, punctuated only by the way Goro’s voice breaks.

“You won’t say no, will you?”

_I never could. Not to you._

He scratches at the metal until his fingers bleed, even after the gunshots, when the only sounds against the terrifyingly _final _silence are his own screams, pleading for Goro to answer him, telling him that it’s not too late.

_Please, just let yourself be saved. You’re worth it. Can’t you see that?_

He wakes up with a shuddering, gasping breath, like he’s been drowning for his whole life and he’s finally emerged into salty air - not quite underwater, but it tastes the same. Cold, clammy, and crying, he grabs the blanket and folds it so it lies next to him, and when he puts his arms around it, he can almost convince himself that he’s not alone any more.

Morgana ruins the illusion by trampling all over the poor imitation of Goro in his arms, but Ren can’t bring himself to complain - it’s probably not healthy anyway, to try and find a substitute for someone who can never be replaced.

“Are you asleep?” Morgana asks.

“Yes.”

* * *

He tries again a week later, this time getting the train back to his hometown. He hopes it’ll be easier to not have to say goodbye in front of his parents’ house, and so he makes the journey alone, with Morgana safely in his bag, hidden from the inevitable disapproval of his parents.

This time, they’re in when he gets back, and he’s met with stern stares and words that go right over his head, telling him how lucky he is to have a _home, _and how childish it is to go running away in the middle of the night. He could tell them that he doesn’t feel safe around them, that this house itself feels stifling and cruel, and how he’d rather be in Leblanc, but they’re not the kind of people who could understand or admit that they may ever be wrong, so he stays silent, taking it all with a forced smile as his mask, and then he’s upstairs again.

“Are you going to give it a go, this time?” Morgana says. He nods, not quite resolutely, not making any promises. He’s cautious of making promises, now, all things considered.

And he does try, for at least two days. Until it all gets to be too much, the isolation of being without his friends, stuck alone with parents who don’t care about him and the oppressive thoughts of Goro Akechi, trapped in that engine room. How must he have felt? To go through everything he went through, to be manipulated time and time again, only to be killed by a product of that same, exact manipulation? He aches to cut the marionette strings and watch him find the freedom he deserves, but he can’t do that - not anymore. Not now Goro is dead.

Goro is dead. Goro is dead. Goro is dead. 

It becomes the only thought in his mind, until he’s whispering it to himself, stuck in the marrow of 2am, his head in his hands, tearing at his hair and trying not to scream, because _Goro is dead _and he’s not coming back and there’s nothing in this whole world that a failed hero can do about it.

With fistfuls of his hair in his hands, he tugs until it stings, biting down on his lower lip and trying to taste blood, until Morgana leaps at him and, slightly haphazardly, forces his hands away from his head, pinning them down in his lap. The restriction of movement terrifies him; is this what it feels like to be trapped? Is this what Goro felt when…

“Ren,” Morgana says.

“Goro is dead,” he repeats.

“He died saving you all.”

“And? Who gets to decide that he’s the one unworthy of being saved?”

“That was his choice. Are you going to throw away the life he gave you?”

“I…”

“You should get some sleep. It’s not good to wear yourself out thinking about things you can’t change.”

With an unconvincing nod, Ren lies down and faces the window. The breeze that comes through brushes his curtains against his face, and when he closes his eyes, he can try and imagine that someone is wiping away his tears. Someone.

_Goro._

He’s not sure how much of his dreams, or nightmares, are real any more. When he wakes up in the Velvet Room, he half-expects the horror of the past few months to all have been a lie, and maybe now he’s getting a second chance. Maybe he’ll wake up in Leblanc, and go downstairs to see Goro sitting at the counter, and he’ll run to him and tell him that he knows everything and that there’s another way out of this, a way where they can both live and be free of the people who hurt them.

But it’s just a dream. He’s back in the cell, the bars tightly closed, and nobody talks about rehabilitation or personas. He’s just there, trapped within his own heart, reaching out for someone that he already lost.

* * *

The next morning, he realises that being at his parents’ house makes him worse. Sure, he’ll be doing badly regardless of where he lives, but things are just harder to deal with in this house, where he doesn’t feel safe or loved. Maybe that’s how Goro felt. If this is what it means to understand why Goro shot the bulkhead door shut, then perhaps Ren is beginning to get it. Self-sacrifice and giving up can be two sides of the same coin, but he’s made promises in his life, and he won’t let them go to waste.

“I can’t be here,” he tells Morgana.

“Are you going back to Leblanc?”

“I want to.”

He pulls out his phone and texts Futaba. Admittedly, he’s not been great at keeping in contact with his friends, choosing isolation and his own depression over responding to their messages, but he needs their help, right now, if only to get him back to Tokyo.

**Ren Amamiya: **Hey, Futaba. Can I ask a favour?

**Futaba Sakura: **ren!!  ヽ ( · ∀ · ) ﾉ how are you?

**Ren Amamiya: **I’m good.

_Liar._

**Futaba Sakura: **what u need?

**Ren Amamiya: **It’s a long shot, but could you hack into Shujin and re-enrol me as a student? And send some sort of email to my parents about me having to finish my final year there?

**Futaba Sakura: **you’re coming back??!!  ＼ ( ≧ ▽≦ ) ／

**Ren Amamiya: **Hopefully.

**Futaba Sakura: **yayyyyyy i’ll tell sojiro + the others!!

**Ren Amamiya: **I’m counting on you.

He locks his phone and waits in his bedroom, struggling with the knowledge that he has to rely on someone else to get out of here. He always wanted to be the person who was _relied on, _but he failed at that and now he can’t go back to how he was, no matter how much he tries to pretend that returning to Tokyo will fix anything. 

It’s not long before his parents are barging into his room and showing him an email from Shujin Academy, telling him that he has to finish his final year there rather than go to a new school, chastising him for being a burden on Sojiro and telling him that they’ll have to ask if Ren can stay there for another year. He nods, but can’t bring himself to smile.

Leblanc feels like home, but it’s not enough if he’s still alone. Even as he tries to force a smile, sitting in one of the booths with his friends after closing time, he can’t stop himself from glancing over to the counter, hoping that just once, he’ll be able to see Goro leaning there. Each time he thinks of him, he gets more and more terrified of the day that he’ll forget exactly how his voice sounded, how he took his coffee, how he’d make bold moves in chess that Ren could never understand until he was backed too far into a corner to prevent himself getting checkmated.

Still, the night weans on, and although he can’t begin to think of recovery, he’s glad that he’s back in a place where he’s no longer physically alone. No, just mentally. Just stuck in that void, tormented by reaching out for the one person he couldn’t save.

That night, he’s more exhausted than ever. Social interaction has forced him into sleepiness, and he can only close his eyes.

Until he’s back in the Velvet Room, and it’s dark. Thick with blackness and heat, back behind the bars that he dared to naively think he could break free from. And there’s no Igor, no Lavenza, no rehabilitation, only the vast expanse of loneliness that echoes in silence around the room.

“Hello?” Ren calls out. He shuffles around his cell and presses his face against the bars, trying to adjust his eyes to the dark. It could be wishful thinking, could be hallucination, but he swears that there’s someone else just out of his reach.

And then he wakes up.

* * *

Time passes, and he goes back to school. He still doesn’t recover, but he gets out of bed each day and forces himself to eat, study, hang out with his friends, just in the slight hope that he can fake it enough so that one day he’ll be okay again. And of course, they notice. It doesn’t pass him by casually when Ryuji starts to invite him to the gym more and more, trying to get him to open up and talk about his feelings. He’s grateful, even if he can’t accept the help in the way that he knows Ryuji wants him to.

After half an hour of spotting Ryuji whilst he benchpresses, Ren drops his arms as a quiet signal that he’s had enough. Ever observant and caring, Ryuji notices instantly, and they make their way out of the gym and towards a little ramen shop, tucked away in the backstreets, free from prying eyes and oppressive noise.

“Hey, man,” Ryuji says, “what’s on your mind?”

“Me?”

“Yeah, you. You seem really down.”

“Oh. I’m fine.”

“C’mon, I’m your best bro. I can tell when something’s wrong. What is it?”

“It’s really nothing.” _How could he even begin to talk about it?_

“Well, I won’t push ya. Just know that we’ve all got your back, yeah? You helped us out countless times, it’d be nice to return the favour somehow.”

“Yeah. It’d be… nice.”

But he doesn’t say anything. He just puts extra effort into forcing a smile, hoping that it’ll be enough to ease Ryuji’s mind, and then he goes back home and cries himself to sleep.

The Velvet Room is as dark as ever, but he’s used to it, by now. Through the bars, he aches to see if it’s all a lie, or if there is indeed someone in the cell next to his, silently calling out. And he can’t help himself, he has to be helpful, it’s almost a compulsion at this point - he’s not bothered any more about being liked, but he wants to redeem himself. It’s a little self-destructive, but he only feels human when he’s putting himself on the line for others.

“Hello?” Ren says, hoping for a response this time.

Nothing.

“Is anyone there?”

Noise, now. Not a voice, but a distinct sound, like someone close to him, but just out of reach, is straining to the edge of their own cell, trying to listen.

“Hello,” someone says. And it shocks him so much that he almost doesn’t believe it could have happened, because he’s heard that voice before, in countless nightmares and memories that he’s begging to hold onto. In the silence that follows, Ren almost convinces himself that he imagined it, but he needs to know - needs to confirm for himself if this is, indeed, his second chance. Or if it’s just the cruelty of a Tantalean imagination.

“Hello,” he repeats himself.

“Ah, you’re there,” the voice says, and now it’s unmistakeable. _Goro._

“Goro?”

“I… Ren, is that you?”

“Yes! It’s me.”

“Where are we?”

“This is… it’s called the Velvet Room. But this is a dream. You’re not… I mean… you died.”

“Ah, yes. I did. Maybe this is a dream, after all. I thought it could be a nightmare, but it would be far too much of a hopeful one if you’re here.”

“I’m just dreaming of you.”

“Strange. To think of being remembered, by you of all people.”

“This… it’s too cruel. I can’t do this,” Ren says, holding his head in his hands. He just wants to be next to Goro in reality, to make things better together, but he _can’t _and it hurts so much to have it all ripped away from him again. Breathing shallowly, he squeezes his eyes shut and begs for it all to be over.

And it is.

* * *

A week later, he finds himself leaving school alone, without going back to Leblanc straight away. Instead, he lets himself be unconsciously carried towards that old toy shop, staring at the ray gun and thinking, once more, of what justice meant to Goro, and what it means to him, now. 

Proof of justice. What does he have to prove? And to whom?

He aimlessly walks around, lingering a little outside the places that he used to go alongside Goro, not daring to go inside and confront those memories again. Even when it gets dark, he stays outside, watching the sky burn into black. All of the stars are wearing masks, and they don’t deserve to shine. 

Morgana has to tell him to go home when it gets to 11pm. He didn’t realise it was so late.

It’s not every night that he dreams about Goro, and he’s torn between desperately wanting to hear his voice again, and knowing that it will only set him back to be confronted with his mind’s cruel imitation of what he lost. But still, there’s familiarity in the Velvet Room, and when he wakes up back in there, he breathes a sigh of relief.

“Goro…” Ren says.

“Welcome… back.”

“This isn’t fair. I can’t let you go.”

“Ha. You should.”

“I can’t.”

“I didn’t expect to see you in here.”

“This is all in my mind, Goro. Why wouldn’t you expect to see me?”

“Oh. I think I understand. Perhaps that’s why you’re behind those bars.”

“What?”

“What do you think would happen,” Goro says, and Ren can almost picture him putting his hand under his chin, the way he used to do when he was thinking hard about any deductive reasoning, “if you told yourself that this was all real?”

“But it isn’t real.”

“Yes, we’ve established that as a possibility. Just entertain my hypothesis for a moment. What would happen if you suddenly decided that I am, in fact, Goro Akechi, and that I am just as real as you are?”

“Then it would just… set me back. I’d be right back at the beginning, still unable to save you.”

“That is indeed a possibility. But it’s not the _only _possibility, is it?”

“What do you mean?”

“Think, Ren.”

“I…”

“Our time is up. Think about it. I’ll be waiting for you. Until next time.”

* * *

He wakes up with a shudder. What was it that Goro had said? Admitting that this could be real… what would it mean for him? Surely it would just be another sickening reminder of his own failure, of how deeply he misses Goro. He’s not _that _self-sabotaging, not yet, anyway.

It’s just a dream. A horrible, cruel dream.

His phone beeping with a notification shatters any remnants of the illusion.

**Yusuke Kitagawa: **Hello, Ren. Could I bother you and take some of your time today? I am working on a piece and I would like your opinion.

**Ren Amamiya: **Yeah. What time?

**Yusuke Kitagawa: **Could you head over to my dorm after you get out of school? 

**Ren Amamiya: **Gotcha.

Even though his mind is filled with thoughts of the strange dreams he’s been having, he can’t refuse a friend, especially one as dear as Yusuke. It might even be good for him to have some one-on-one time with someone other than Morgana, and he’s nothing if not naively hopeful that one day, he can recover, even if it means facing the reality that he’ll be doing the one thing Goro never got to do. Maybe one day. But not today.

Yusuke’s dorm is simultaneously cluttered and tidy. The windows are perpetually open, and his bed is neatly made; everything has a place, but there’s just so much to fit in such a little space, and Ren has to navigate a mini-labyrinth of canvases and discarded sketchbooks until he reaches Yusuke and sees what he’s working on.

It’s got a strange, ethereal tone to it, painted in muted colours. Whilst there are no distinct faces or scenery, Ren can tell that it’s a piece about the Metaverse, one of Yusuke’s key themes since the destruction of Mementos. It’s something that they all have to let go of in their own ways.

“What do you think?” Yusuke says.

“I like it.”

“What do you believe it’s about?”

“Uh… the Metaverse, right? It’s very… dreamy.”

“Wonderful. Thank you for such a succinct analysis. May I speak frankly to you, for a moment?”

“Sure.”

“I painted this whilst thinking of you. You don’t seem yourself. I understand that we’re all having a hard time adjusting to being regular students after our jaunt as Phantom Thieves.”

“I’m fine, Yusuke.”

“An artist has an eye for the unseen, Ren. Would you talk to me?”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Well, how are you feeling?”

“Exhausted, mainly.”

“Is school taking a toll on you?”

“Not exactly.”

“Ah… could it be that you’re still remembering Goro?”

“How could you tell?”

“He was close to you. You changed, after… well, after what happened.”

“Yusuke, can I ask you something? As an artist.”

“Of course.”

“How can you tell what’s real?”

“Could you elaborate?”

“How do you know whether the things you’re seeing in a piece of artwork are the same as what other people are seeing?”

“I don’t. Nobody does. But that’s the beauty of art, I suppose. Just because my perception differs from someone else’s, it doesn’t negate that what I view as reality is altogether real to me. The world is somewhat of a blank canvas, upon which we all paint what we see fit. There’s no cohesive answer to the question of what life means, but the free thought that we all possess means that we can interpret things however we need to.”

“Thank you.”

“I hope my answer was satisfactory. I’d like to be able to help you.”

“I think it’s something I have to help myself with. But thanks, Yusuke. I think I know what to do now. I’ll see you around.”

That night, Ren tries to force himself into sleep, even though he’s not as tired as usual. And eventually, in the haze of the early morning light, it comes to him.

“I know what to do, now,” he says, upon waking up in his cell.

“Enlighten me,” Goro says.

“I want to believe that you’re real. Sure, it could all be a lie, and it would hurt just as much as losing you the first time around, but I have to trust my own reality. I have to try everything to make things right, no matter how much it might fail.”

“A worthy conclusion. I knew you could do it.”

Suddenly, a blinding blue light permeates the darkness of the Velvet Room, and the bars fall away, dissipating into nothingness right in front of Ren’s eyes. He takes a few, tentative steps out of the cell, turning back to see that he’s free of the chains of his heart once more, or at least that he’s made more progress tonight than he has in the past few months.

And then he’s searching, blindly feeling in the dark, pushing through everything to reach Goro. The cell next to his is barred shut, and he knows by instinct alone that Goro is on the other side of the bars; he can only hope that he’s reaching out, too.

His hand makes connection with Goro's, desperately gripping onto him as he falls to his knees. Only the door separates them, now. It feels like a do-over. It feels familiar. But he’s terrified of failing again, marked for Hell by the separation of metal.

“Hello,” Goro says. It’s still so dark that Ren can’t see him, but he uses his free hand to reach through the bars and take mental note of the fact that Goro is there; his hair feels longer, but it’s unmistakably _him._

“You… you’re alive?”

“If you can define being trapped in here since everything ended as _being alive, _then yes.”

“What happened?”

“Now that, I am unsure of. I remember the engine room, and everything that happened there. And then I woke up in here.”

“Was there nobody else?”

“Not that I’m aware of.”

“That’s strange.”

“You’ve been here before?”

“Yes. They called it… rehabilitation. I suppose, since you had the power of two personas as well, then… but why are you alone in here?”

“I’ve had a lot of time to think. When you appeared in here for the first time, all of my theories went out of the window. I suspected that it was a representation of my own heart, trapped in a prison for eternity, atoning for everything, but it’s hard to believe that someone like yourself could be in such a dire situation, too.”

“No, you’re right.”

“What do you mean?”

“This is a representation of your heart. Mine, too.”

“Then why is it a prison? You’re the most free person I’ve ever known.”

“Things change.”

“How so?”

“I miss you.”

“Ah.”

“I wish we could get out of here.”

“I doubt that’s possible. My heart is not as strong as yours. Frankly, I’m envious.”

“Still?”

“I suppose, if I’d learned enough to make a change, I wouldn’t still be in here.”

“Don’t say that.”

“It’s true, though. Ultimately, I couldn’t accomplish my goal. My final act of self-sacrifice was still selfish in nature. I couldn’t deal with failure, or with losing the trust from others that I’d built up as the Detective Prince, so it was easier to give in.”

“I understand that.”

“You do?”

“My biggest regret was… the same, I suppose. A lot happened in that engine room.”

“Tell me one thing,” Goro says, and Ren can hear the desperation in his voice, “did you manage it?”

“Yes. I promised you we would. I couldn’t let you down… again.”

“Thank you.”

“Can we just stay here for a little while?”

“Yes.”

They both shuffle closer to the cell door, holding onto each other through the bars and getting as close as they can possibly be. There’s a lot to process in all of this, but Ren is satisfied enough to save that for when he’s awake again, not wanting to lose out on any of his time with Goro, still terrified that this might be the last time he ever gets to see him. But the bars of his own cell are gone, now, which means he did the right thing in admitting that this is real.

Does he dare hope that it could stay this way?

Right now, all he can do is desperately cling onto Goro, his hands a mess of wanting more, locking fingers and pulling each other closer like they’re trying to close the distance of the past months. It’s still so dark, but he doesn’t need to be able to see to know that this isn’t a cruel imitation of Goro - nothing could be as intimately familiar as the original, and for the first time in what feels like forever, he can taste hope without the bitterness that usually accompanies it.

Until the whole room becomes hazy, and he’s being dragged backwards, slowly. Panicking, he sees the bulkhead door in his mind, slamming down over and over, and he grasps for Goro once more.

“I think I’m waking up,” he says, hiding his fear.

“Then I’ll see you tonight.”

“It’s a promise.”

* * *

Waking up alone, his hands cold at his sides, causes Ren to fall deeper into his own mind. He doesn’t have school today, so instead he pulls his laptop onto his bed and starts searching, typing in keywords like _Goro Akechi _and _Detective Prince. _There’s no news. It’s like he never existed, but he has to hold onto what Yusuke said, that his perception of reality - no matter how much it isn’t shared by the public - is real enough to satisfy him. When he gets out of bed, he finds Sojiro setting up the shop for the day’s business.

“Hey, kid, fancy helping out today?”

“Yeah, sure,” Ren says, giving a slight, but genuine, smile.

There aren’t many customers. Sojiro sets down a cup of coffee in front of him when the café is empty, looking at him expectantly.

“How are you doing?”

“I’m…” Ren says, choosing his words carefully, “all right.”

“I won’t pretend to understand all this Phantom Thieves business. But you don’t seem right. Has something happened?”

“No, not really.”

“Then what’s going on? I might be an old man, but I’m pretty perceptive.”

“Do you remember Goro Akechi?”

“How could I forget?”

“Do you blame him?”

Sojiro thinks for a moment, taking a long sip of his own coffee. “I don’t think I do.”

“Why?”

“He was just a kid. And he had a hard life. He was being manipulated by someone who took advantage of that, so it’s hard to blame him. Ya know, he reminds me of you when you first came here, like the whole world was against you. But you had friends, and I hope I could help you too in some way. He had nobody, did he? Imagine what that does to a person. Growin’ up all alone… you never get chance to learn. Nobody gave him that chance. It’s hard to blame him when it was the world that made him that way. And you? Do you blame him?”

“Not one bit,” Ren says.

“I’m proud of you for that,” Sojiro says, “you’ve got a good head on your shoulders.”

“I think he deserves forgiveness.”

“Is that what’s going on, kid? Do you miss him?”

“I suppose.”

“I wish you’d tell me what really happened.”

“I can’t. It’s not that I don’t trust you, it’s just…”

“I get it. You’re only young. It’s hard to process these things, sometimes. But don’t go blamin’ yourself for something you probably couldn’t change.”

“I can change things.”

“You already did. You changed the world, didn’t you?”

“It’s not enough.”

“Go easier on yourself. We’re all worried about you.”

“All?”

“Your friends aren’t dumb. They’ve been round, ‘specially on days that you’ve been in bed all day. Askin’ about you.”

“I had no idea.”

“‘Course ya didn’t. Not that I blame you, of course.”

“What do you mean?”

“When Wakaba died… I got pretty depressed. The only thing that kept me going was Futaba, knowin’ that I had to help her out. But I know firsthand that this shit isn’t easy, Ren. Losing someone you… care about, that hits hard, and it takes a while to recover from. Hell, there are still days that I close up shop early and think about her and what I could have done differently to save her. But you have to keep living. It’s not moving on, it’s not forgetting. It’s living your own life for two people, instead of just for yourself.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m always here if you need to talk about it.”

Ren smiles, a little sadly. The conversation stops when a customer walks in, but he makes a conscious effort to seem upbeat, flashing a smile at Sojiro every now and then, just to reassure him that he’s doing okay. He has a plan. He’s not given up yet, not ever; he will never give up on Goro Akechi.

That night, he’s thankful when he wakes up outside the bars of Goro’s cell. The Velvet Room is a little lighter, now, and he can see as clearly as he’d ever hoped that Goro sits just beyond the bars, staring at the wall; he’s wearing the same prisoner’s uniform that Ren himself is still in, and he looks like the weight of the world is on his shoulders, sadly staring directly ahead of him until Ren clears his throat and Goro gives a faint smile.

“Good to see you again,” Goro says. 

“You too.”

Goro moves over to the door, sitting cross-legged and looking inquisitively at Ren. “I’m glad you came back.”

“Proof of justice,” he says without thinking.

“What?”

“Proof of justice. You wrote that in one of those dumb crossword books.”

“Did I?”

“Yeah. I found it after you died.”

“Oh.”

“I didn’t know what it meant. So I played detective and went to all of our old hangout spots.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Sort of like a trip down memory lane, only not half as happy.”

“And did you find out?”

“It was just a toy ray gun. A stupid toy. But I cried outside that shop, just looking at it.”

“I… I apologise.”

“Don’t.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“What’s your definition of justice? Has it changed?”

“It’s the same. But… it’s more linked to you, now.”

“Me?”

“Yeah.”

“How so?”

“I can’t be a hero if I failed to save the one person who deserved it most.”

“Now, you know that’s a lie, Ren. You saved the world. I was always a little jealous of the Phantom Thieves. You enacted your own justice, free of the desperate need for your efforts to be validated… it was so unlike my own outlook on life. When I joined you, I know… I know I betrayed you, and I don’t expect to be forgiven, but… I mean it when I say that I enjoyed being a part of your team.”

“I forgive you.”

“Then you’re mad.”

“Maybe so. Doesn’t change a thing.”

“Why are you so hung up on saving me? What if I don’t want to be saved? What if I don’t deserve it?”

It doesn’t go unnoticed that Goro has tears in his eyes, rolling slightly down his cheeks. Ren reaches his hand through the bars and softly wipes them away, smiling as Goro closes his eyes and sinks into the gesture.

“I know that’s a lie,” he says, “you deserve it.”

Slowly, Goro reaches up and holds Ren’s hand. Even through the bars, this is the closeness that Ren’s been missing since Goro died, and he honestly doesn’t want it to end. As much as he knows that he’ll eventually wake up, and Goro will still be trapped in here, he just wants to enjoy this moment, trying, with silent gestures and smiles, to convince him that he’s loved.

“Can I ask you something a little strange?” Goro says.

“Yes.”

“How are Haru and Futaba?”

“They’re… coping. We all are.”

“Have they said anything? About… you know?”

“Well, at first, it was something that none of us talked about. But I don’t think they blame you. We all know what it’s like to be manipulated by someone. We’d be hypocrites if we didn’t give you the same forgiveness we’re trying to give ourselves.”

“I honestly didn’t expect that. I thought everyone would hate me. Most of all you.”

“I don’t think I could.”

“Even after what I did?”

“I don’t care about that.”

“But what if your plan hadn’t worked? I could have… I hate to even think about it. I was so stupid.”

“It _did_ work, though, Goro. And I’m here because of it. I forgive you.”

“How many times will you have to tell me you forgive me before I believe it?”

“However many it takes, and then one more for good luck.”

“You really are beyond my comprehension.”

Ren pauses for a moment. He keeps thinking about what Goro wrote down, what _proof of justice _truly means.

“Why a toy gun? Why were you thinking about that so recently?”

“Ah. I suppose it’s childish, isn’t it?”

“Not at all.”

“I suppose I’d been thinking a lot, on that day. About my mother. How everything stemmed from her, and how much justice got confused with revenge, and whether I was doing the right thing, after all. It’s funny. I didn’t doubt myself until I met you and understood more about the Phantom Thieves. What was it Macbeth said? _‘I am in blood, Stepped in so far that, should I wade no more, Returning were as tedious as go o’er.’ _Sometimes you’re just in too deep to stop, no matter how much you want to.”

“And did you want to?”

“I didn’t want to kill you.”

“I’m glad you didn’t.”

“Me too. And I suppose I was also thinking about childhood, and missing out on things I never got. It’s quite a strange thing to confront adulthood when you were never allowed the time to make childish mistakes. There’s a lot about life that I don’t know. Maybe that’s why I was so foolish… so easily manipulated.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“I don’t think I believe you.”

“Then try.”

“One day.”

* * *

With a start, Ren wakes up. It still feels like he isn’t doing enough for Goro, but he’s making a start; he wonders what it will take to break away the bars of Goro’s cell, and what will happen after that. What if it’s all for nothing, and he just stays dead? To have that kind of hope ripped away from him again might actually be the kind of destruction that even he can’t push through, but he can’t walk away now. Not when he has the chance - the tiny, thin thread of possibility - to change his biggest regret. 

_To save him._

Back at school, he sneaks away from the crowd on his lunch break and makes his way to the rooftop. Haru is there, humming quietly to herself as she plants fresh vegetables, her gaze thick with concentration. It’s only when he stands right next to her that she notices him.

“Ah, Ren! It’s so lovely to see you,” she says, smiling.

“You too. How are you holding up?”

“Quite well, all things considered. I’ve managed to find an unbiased lawyer and I’m making very good headway in downsizing my father’s company into something manageable.”

“Are you coping with that?”

“I’ve found myself thinking recently, about what he said to me after we defeated his shadow. Just before… you know. I’m glad I got to speak to him that way. I like to hope that I’ll be making him proud with what I’m doing.”

“You are.”

“Thank you for that, Ren. It means a lot to hear. And you? How are you doing?”

“Oh, you know, I’m all right,” he sits down next to her, looking a little too intently at the soil.

“Is that the truth?”

“Well, I’m still alive, aren’t I?”

“That isn’t the measure of a life. I can tell that something is wrong. You’re usually quiet, but not distant. I’ve been talking about it with Makoto, and I think I know why you won’t open up to us all.”

“Oh?”

“It’s about Goro Akechi, isn’t it?”

“I won’t talk about him to you. I know you have a lot to process.”

“Ren, I didn’t think I could forgive him for what he did. But it’s been months, and part of my own recovery has been accepting that I only really blamed him because I needed someone to blame. That’s all past us, now. He was acting on orders given by someone who didn’t see him as a person, only as a stepping stone. I didn’t want to be forced into the marriage that my father had set up, but I was about to go along with it, simply because I had no other choice. At the very least, I can understand why he did what he did. I choose to believe in the goodness in people’s hearts; I know he wouldn’t have killed my father had he had any real choice about the matter. So please, don’t bottle your feelings up on my account. I’m working through my own trauma, and that’s irrespective of other people, so please talk to me about yours.”

“That’s… thank you, Haru. I suppose I just regret not being able to save him.”

“I think we all do. He’s us. He’s what we all could have been if we hadn’t met each other. You know, I keep thinking about what he said. About how he wished he could have met you earlier. I think that was a cry for help. He’s not… I mean, he wasn’t… a bad person.”

“I’ve been having these strange dreams.”

“About him?”

“Yeah. It feels like there’s hope, you know? Like I can have a second chance to save him.”

“Ren, you have to admit to yourself that he’s gone, and it’s not your fault.”

“But he’s not! He’s still there, somewhere.”

“In your mind, perhaps. People exist in our hearts long after they’re gone, as memories and stories and wishes. One day, I’m sure we’ll learn how to think of that as _enough.”_

“No, I mean he’s really trapped somewhere. It’s hard to explain.”

“Have you spoken to anyone about your feelings?”

“I mean, I talked to Sojiro a little…”

“I mean a doctor. Or a therapist.”

“Oh. No. I don’t think I could.”

“Why not?”

“Can you imagine how that therapy session would go? _Yeah, I was a Phantom Thief, and the person who tried to kill me is also the person who deserves to be saved, and I didn’t get to do that so I spend every day hearing gunshots in my mind and I still don’t know what’s real.”_

“That’s a rather large burden to put sorely on your shoulders. Perhaps we should all get together for dinner tonight? I must admit that I do miss hanging out as a group, and it might do you some good to talk about this alongside everyone else.”

“I don’t know if I can, Haru.”

“Nonsense. You were all there for me when my father died. It’ll help. I’ll bring round some fresh vegetables and we can cook together.”

“I… sure.”

“Alright. I’ll text everyone to confirm the details, so don’t worry about a thing! Just wait at Leblanc for us after school.”

“Thank you.”

Sitting alone in Leblanc, Ren wonders whether he made the right decision by letting everyone come round. He’s not sure if they’ll believe him or not, and truthfully, all he wants to do is go back to sleep and see Goro again; he has to be real, it can’t just be a depression-fuelled manifestation of the person he misses most deeply. 

Still, when all of his friends walk in, carrying food to cook and wearing genuinely bright smiles, he feels like there might be hope for him, after all. Ryuji sits down next to him and puts an arm casually around him, as Makoto sits on his other side and holds his hand. It’s obvious that they’re all worried about him, and he hates it - he hates feeling weak - but knowing that they’re putting effort in to combat his loneliness warms his heart in a way that he could never dream of having had back in his hometown.

“We’re making hotpot!” Ann says.

“Sojiro said we can have the café all night,” Futaba adds, “so we’re gonna have fun!”

“Haru told us all you could use some bro time,” Ryuji says, “and we’ve all missed you, anyway!”

“What’s going on, Ren?” Makoto asks him directly.

“I’m fine.”

“Do you promise?”

“I… look, it’s nothing.”

“Nah,” Ryuji says, “you ain’t gettin’ off that easily! We’re a group, we’re supposed to help each other out. After all the help you’ve given us, we _wanna _pay it back to you!”

“Please talk to us,” Ann says.

“I’ve been having these… dreams,” Ren says, knowing that it’ll help them all to try and help him out, even if it does feel like a pointless endeavour.

“About what?” Futaba says.

“About Goro.”

“Akechi?” Yusuke asks.

“Yeah. Velvet Room dreams.”

“Maybe you’re trying to process what happened,” Makoto says.

“It’s not like that. It feels different. It’s not just a dream.”

“What d’ya mean?” Ryuji asks.

“It feels real. Like I can actually just reach through and save him. I just have to figure out how to break him out.”

Futaba takes a sip of her drink and looks up at Ren. “I get you. I felt the same way about my mum. Are you… seeing him in real life? Or hearing voices? I get it if you are. I mean, dealing with grief is hard.”

“No, guys, I’m fine. I _know _that this is real. I just need you to believe me.”

“Maybe we should look into getting you a therapist,” Makoto says.

“Please, listen. Just hear me out.”

“All right, guys,” Ryuji says, “we owe it to Ren to just trust him on this. When nobody believed me about Kamoshida or the track team drama, he never doubted me. Ann, when you needed someone to talk to about Shiho, wasn’t he a great listener? And Yusuke, no matter how much you rejected his help at first, you relied on him to help you change Madarame’s heart. Makoto, even when you thought you were weak and useless, who was it who trusted in your amazing analysis skills? Futaba, you know for sure how much he helped you get out of your own slump. And Haru… remember all those times where he’d sit with you on the roof and help you garden? That was to make sure you were doing okay!”

“I…” Ren says, speechless.

“What I’m sayin’ is that we should trust him. If my Ren-Ren says that it’s real, then I’m with him all the way! I gotta put my faith in something, and I’m gonna put it in this guy. You with me?”

“Yeah,” Ann says, “I’m so sorry, Ren. I shouldn’t have doubted you.”

“You can count on me!” Futaba says, smiling at him.

“You have my deepest apologies,” Yusuke adds, “I believe you.”

Makoto gives his hand a slight squeeze. “Whatever you need, we’re all here for you.”

“We’ll listen to everything you have to say,” Haru tells him.

And so he begins. He tells them all about waking up in the Velvet Room again, about hearing Goro’s voice, about breaking the bars of his cell when he could admit to himself that the possibility of a second chance was real. It’s a taxing story to tell, even in its own shortness, but he sees it through to completion.

“So that’s everything,” he finishes, “and I just need to figure out what Goro needs to do to free himself from his own heart. If I can do that…”

“He might be saved?” Ryuji asks.

“Yes. At least, that’s what I hope.”

“How to free Goro Akechi’s heart,” Makoto says to herself, thinking, “what do you think, Ren?”

“I just… I want him to know that we don’t blame him.”

“I don’t blame him. Not now I understand him better,” Haru smiles sadly.

“I’m done running from my problems and blaming people who don’t deserve it,” Futaba says.

“Maybe he needs freedom from himself?” Ann suggests.

“I think he needs a little genuine compassion from those around him,” Yusuke adds.

“Man, I thought he was just some fucked up dude, but I really feel for him. I can’t imagine havin’ no-one in your life to turn to. And if anything happened to my mum, I’d probably feel the same as him,” Ryuji says.

“So you guys really don’t hold it against him?” Ren says.

“Of course not,” Haru says, “I forgive him.”

“Maybe he needs to forgive himself.”

“That could be it,” Makoto says.

Ryuji pours a large bowl of the hotpot they’ve been cooking and puts it in front of Ren. “C’mon man, if we’re gonna figure this out, you gotta build up your strength! You should eat more.”

“Thanks.”

They all sit and eat together. Ren is thankful that the conversation shifts to lighter topics; he genuinely enjoys hearing his friends talk about their interests, and it brings him out of his shell a little to remember that he’s surrounded by people who want the best for him. And, maybe, there’ll be an extra person at their table soon enough. He has to hope.

That night, he holds the chess piece again, remembering how it felt to give it to Goro. He’d promised him back then that he’d win next time, and he holds himself to that even now. Desperately clutching it between his fingers, he allows himself to fall asleep.

He’s still holding it outside Goro’s cell. The time between their meetings feels like forever, and the aching look of loneliness in Goro’s eyes breaks his heart a little.

“I brought this,” he says, putting the king through the bars of the cell onto the floor, “it’s a promise.”

“A promise?”

“That we’ll play together again.”

“I’d like that. If only you could bring a whole board in here.”

“That’s not what I mean. I mean you’re getting out.”

“Ren, I don’t know how.”

“I do.”

“What?”

“I talked with everyone today.”

“You did? Did you tell them about… this?”

“Yeah. They believed me. And they believe in you, too.”

“In me?”

“They forgive you.”

“You have to be lying,” Goro says bitterly.

“Look at me,” Ren makes eye contact, “do I look like I’m lying?”

“You…”

“You have to forgive yourself.”

“What?”

“That’s how you break out of here. Out of your heart.”

“Then I suppose I’ll have to stay here forever.”

“Don’t give me that.”

“It’s not possible, Ren. Not after all I did.”

“Come here.”

Goro walks over to the door again and sits down. Reaching through the bars, Ren holds his hands, taking his time to be slow and gentle, trying no longer to prove justice, but to prove love.

“I'm sorry,” Goro says.

“You _have to _forgive yourself.”

“There’s no way I can.”

“Have you tried?”

“I don’t deserve to try.”

“Do you even know how much I miss you?”

“What?”

“Every day, Goro. I wake up and it _hurts _to know that you’re not here. I go back to all the places we went together, and I can’t even go inside, because it’s like the whole place is just filled with your ghost. I want you to come back.”

“You’ll move on. Eventually.”

“Could you? Did you ever move on from all the loss in your life?”

“That’s different.”

“It’s not.”

“It is.”

“Do you really not believe that I care about you?”

“It’s just hard for me.”

“Do you think I’d be trapped in here too if our destinies weren’t tied together so tightly?”

“I… honestly, I don’t know.”

“This is my second chance to save you. I’m not making the same mistakes I did last time.”

“Please, just leave me.”

“Never.”

“What do I have to do to convince you that I fulfilled my duty? I died in that engine room, and I have no intention of going back and facing the very same thing that I avoided by shooting that bulkhead door closed.”

“It’ll be different this time around.”

“How can it be?”

“The world is different.”

“Then there’s no place for me in it any more.”

“There’s always a place for you. Wherever I am.”

“Don’t. Just don’t, Ren. It’s hard enough without hearing that.”

“Why?”

“Because it just _is._ That’s how it always been. The rest of you guys, the Phantom Thieves, you were all saved before things took over you entirely. You have each other, and your hearts are free. But not for me. It’s been far too long for me to learn how to live.”

“It’s never too late.”

“Maybe not for you.”

“Not for you, either.”

The dream begins to fade, and Ren feels more than ever like he’s running out of time. Like there’s some kind of deadline to pull Goro out of the darkness and back into his life, again.

“Think about it,” he says, “just like you told me to. I broke out of my cell, now it’s your turn.”

Goro looks down, and then holds out the chess piece. “You’ll be wanting this back. The board is useless without the king.”

“Keep it,” Ren says, “give it back to me in person.”

* * *

Morgana is pacing the room when he wakes up. “Good morning.”

“Hey.”

“So did it work?”

“I don’t think so,” Ren says, “he needs more time. I just hope we have enough of that.”

“You can always try again tonight.”

“Yeah,” Ren says, distantly. It feels like things have changed. 

Still, he has to wait for the day to pass him by before he can see Goro again. It’s become something that he relies on, now, that the best part of his day is when it all ends and he can go to bed. He used to love walking outside at night, getting things done on as little sleep as possible, but now there’s a strange mix of hopefulness and depression that keeps him chained to his mattress. 

As he closes his eyes again, once dusk has barely passed, he waits impatiently for hours before falling asleep.

And then he wakes up. No dreams.

Still, the chess piece is nowhere to be found in his room. He hopes that somewhere, Goro is holding onto it, trying his hardest to forgive himself so that he can come back home. Instead, he gets out the rest of the board, laying down the pieces and trying not to stare for too long at how it looks like there’s been a destructive checkmate before the game has even begun. He ends up simply holding the white king in his hands, sitting on the edge of his bed and turning it over, like it’s the only connection he has to Goro - if they’re both somewhere, missing each other, holding the most vulnerable piece in the whole game, then perhaps the universe will understand what it needs to do. If only the world could be kind. Just this once, Ren hopes that the world will be kind.

That night, he finds that his heart has been dulled by the feeling of failure. But still, he hopes to wake up in the Velvet Room, to see Goro again, and this time he won’t let him go even when morning comes.

Still, nothing.

It comes as no surprise to him that over the next week, he falls back into a deep depression. As much as his friends try to come round, bring him food, talk to him and cheer him up, he simply can’t get out of bed. All he wants to do is sleep, clinging onto the pathetic hope that this time, things will be different; if he just sleeps enough, maybe he’ll find his way back to Goro. He considers what it would be like to be in a medically-induced coma, to have no option _but_ sleep, and then he can devote himself entirely to searching for the second chance that feels ever more like it’s been ripped away from him.

“You can’t give up hope, man,” Ryuji says, sitting on the end of his bed. Ren feels ashamed to let himself be seen like this, so lethargic, his eyes ringed with dark circles and his hair unbrushed and unkempt, but he simply doesn’t have the energy to change his situation.

“It didn’t work,” he says, his voice quiet and monotone.

“You can try again, though, right?”

“No. I’m not dreaming of him any more. I can’t go back.”

“C’mon, it’s not like my Ren-Ren to give up, is it?”

“Maybe not the old me.”

“Nah, I won’t let you give up! Get up.”

“I can’t.”

“Yeah you can. You can lie back down if ya don’t like it, but you _can_ put your feet on the floor.”

Defeated, Ren drags himself up until he’s sitting up.

“There ya go,” Ryuji says, “now go shower, I’ll get Boss to whip up something for you to eat and I’ll meet you in Inokashira Park in an hour.”

“What happened to lying back down?”

“You got me there. But you’re not gonna stand me up, are ya? We’re bros, right!”

“Fine.”

As much as it hurts to drag his body up, to get ready, to force Sojiro’s food down his dry throat, he does it, because he’s already failed Goro, he can’t fail Ryuji, too. He’s about to leave Leblanc when Sojiro stops him.

“I’ll give you a lift to wherever you’re going, kid,” Sojiro says.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“It’s a slow day for business, anyway.”

“Thanks.”

It’s really nothing more than a ploy for Sojiro to check on him, but Ren appreciates the ride to Inokashira nonetheless. He can’t bring himself to talk; all he can do is stare out of the window as the world whips by him, wondering where he went wrong.

“I can pick you up whenever you need,” Sojiro says as they arrive.

“Thank you, but I’m fine. I’ll make my own way home.”

“If you say so. Call me if you need anything.”

“Got it.”

Ryuji is waiting for him by the entrance. His face lights up in a smile of almost disbelief when he sees that Ren actually _did _come, barrelling over to him and dragging him to their old spot by the water.

“I’m glad you came,” Ryuji says.

“Thanks for inviting me out.”

“I like seeing you! Besides, it’s no good to stay in your own head all the time. Overthinking and all that shit. Sometimes you just need to feel the fresh air and forget about your problems. Wanna go for a run?”

“I really don’t have the energy.”

“A walk, then?”

“I suppose.”

They circle the water a few times, saying nothing. Ren tries to smile, just to give Ryuji some peace of mind that he’s helping out. And it’s easier than admitting that he understands Goro more than anything, now, because he’s overwhelmed by the belief that he, too, can’t be saved. Not from this. One failure broke him, but two have kept him from recovering.

“I know you’re blaming yourself,” Ryuji says.

“How can I not?”

“How can you?”

“I was the only one with the power to save him. Twice. And is he here? No, Ryuji, he’s still dead.”

“You didn’t kill him.”

“I may as well have.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself. You’ve done so much for the world, for all of us.”

“And it isn’t enough.”

“Ren…”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I get how you’re thinking. But Futaba is on her way to recovery from losing her mum, and Haru’s doing the same for her dad. Surely that proves that you can do the same?”

“I… don’t know if I want to.”

“Bullshit. ‘Course you do. You just won’t let yourself.”

“Thanks, Ryuji. Look… I should go. This has been nice, though.”

“Let’s do it again, then, yeah? I’m with you, man. No matter how tough things get.”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

On the train home, he leans his head against the window and closes his eyes, hoping that he can at least not cry in public.

* * *

As he opens the door to Leblanc, Sojiro looks up instantly.

“Go upstairs,” he says, “there’s someone here to see you.”

More of his friends? He appreciates all their help, but he’s exhausted and depressed and he just wants to sleep, even if he won’t end up back in the Velvet Room. It’s a little release from living, and that’s all he can hope for, right now. The world has truly crushed his spirit, this failed hero, because he couldn’t save him.

He couldn’t save him. He couldn’t save him. He couldn’t save him. 

Slowly, he trudges up the stairs to the attic, looking down at the floor and wondering how he’ll politely and kindly brush off whichever one of his friends is waiting there. But that’s not what he sees.

No.

He has to close his eyes and open them again to truly confirm that what he’s seeing is real, but the picture doesn’t fade like he was terrified it might. Goro Akechi, alive, sitting on the edge of his bed. He’s holding the king in his hands, and he looks tired - world-weary, and his hair is a little longer and tied back. No longer wearing his usual formal attire, he’s in an oversized jumper and pants, like there’s no pretence of formality or his pleasant mask that he used to wear on television. 

“I believe this belongs to you,” he says, holding out the chess piece.

The floodgates in Ren’s heart burst open as he crosses the room slowly, terrified to shake himself out of the illusion - but this is real, this is truly, honestly, real, and when he sees that Goro isn’t going to disappear, he closes the distance between them in seconds and falls into his arms.

“I’m sorry I made you wait so long,” Goro continues.

“You’re alive.”

“After everything, it’s hard to believe, I know. But I took what you said to heart. And I tried to forgive myself, I really tried. I suppose that’s why I took a while. But I didn’t give up. I waited for you, and when you didn’t come, I realised that it was up to me to break free.”

“I wanted to come.”

“It doesn’t matter now, does it? I was alone in there for so long before you came, and I realised that I never wanted to go back to an eternity of isolation. And I thought about your heart, and how strong it is, and how much adversity you faced and still fought for the freedom of everyone else. Once I could grasp that, it was only a matter of time before I could break my own bars.”

“I can’t believe you’re here.”

“Honestly, neither can I. But I am, and I’d like to stay, at least for a little while. I don’t know where I fit into this world, any more.”

“Right here.”

“I was hoping you’d say something like that.”

Ren desperately clings onto Goro, holding him and burying his face into his chest. There’s no need for false composure here, he won’t hold back in showing Goro over and over again how loved, how wanted, how absolutely and completely _needed_ he is.

“Thank you,” Goro whispers, laying a hand softly on Ren’s head. As the rain softly sounds outside, and they both hold onto each other with the gentle compassion of needing this moment more than anything they’ve ever needed before, Ren allows himself to smile.

And when he falls asleep, feeling the soft beat of Goro’s heart as they lie together in the attic, he wakes in the Velvet Room. All of the cells are gone, and the ceiling has opened up to a vast night sky, pricked with pinhole-stars. He’s still holding Goro’s hand, as they look up and point to wherever they’re going to go next.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first P5 fic, so I apologise if it's not that great. I just love shuake...


End file.
